I find it fascinating to read about men’s feelings and attitudes in and about romantic relationships, especially when such lessons are coming from a female writer or psychologist. Women writing about men’s feelings. It’s like me describing what it’s like to be a duck taking his first swim across a pond. I am no duck, so who am I to say? Before you ladies get out a meat cleaver, be aware that I am far from misogynistic in my views. I just think it’s crazy for women to describe the male thought process as much as it’s nuts for a man to fully understand a woman.

But Erica Rossellini, PhD, disagrees. In her book, How to Stroke His Ego While Wearing Evening Gloves, Dr. Rossellini says she has the secret on how any woman can please her man outside of the bedroom. So, right off of jump street, I am puzzled. What does Dr. Rossellini mean by “please”? Is she talking about sex? No! She says on page two, “Pleasing a man begins long before sex.” But she uses the word “please” and “bedroom” in the same sentence. After I read this I couldn’t think straight. I completely had to reread the next paragraph two more times. Hers was a tough book to get through.

Dr Rossellini is the literary equivalent of Sugar Ray Leonard in his prime. The punches come fast and furious and there’s no time to duck and weave. Or bob. Weave or bob. She says men like red shoes, and she insists that men are obsessed with sex. She writes on page 178 that men are just grown-up boys who need things to play with and that we’re so distracted by sensuality that we can’t compete emotionally with females. It’s not just that females have higher IQs, but they put their intelligence to better use. Men make wars, get into fist fights, watch UFC, stare at breasts, fantasize during 80 percent of our waking hours, and are short-tempered. After reading Dr. Rossellini’s book, I had to read Jonathan Ames just to unwind. Then I watched a couple of WWII movies — the landing at D-Day.

I am incapable of understanding this male-female psychology from the female perspective. I am lost. I started to ask my wife to interpret Dr. Rossellini’s dissertation and then I remembered that this would be a crazy idea that would only jeopardize my own matrimonial relationship. Maybe it’s the way I communicate. Maybe I shouldn’t start sentences off with “The problem with women is…” Is this too inflammatory? Is this why we argue so much about such things? I steered away from asking my wife anything, but instead brought her a box of chocolates. When she took them from my hands she said, “What did you do?”

Hellbent on understanding something about anything, I hopped in my car and drove to meet Dr. Rossellini at Moshe’s Bagel Emporium downtown.

It was 9 am and the place was hopping. Dr. Rossellini was already waiting for me at the bar. Yeah, a bagel deli with a bar. Go figure. Anyhow, I had never seen Dr. Rossellini and didn’t know what to expect. I don’t judge books by their covers. Well, actually, that’s not true. I do judge books by their covers. If I don’t like the covers I won’t buy the books. Let’s just say I was very interested in reading Dr. Erica Rossellini.

She was wearing a tight-fitting business suit, a finely pressed, expensive white shirt, had her nails done fashionably, and her hair was soft, dark and pulled back. Her face reminded me of Monica Belluci’s. Maybe mixed in with some Ava Gardner. Her shoes were red. This was significant, I thought. Red is sexy. Dr. Rossellini was sexy. I stared at her without saying anything. She was sexy as she held out her hand. I took it in mine. It was soft and a bit cool to the touch. I thought, this is good. I am warming her hand. She must appreciate this. I’ve already scored a point.

Dr Rossellini: You must be Vic, is that right?
Me: Yes, that must be right. I love you.

Was this right for me to say? I think I overstepped my bounds. I was drawn in, taken aback, hijacked and sexually transported. What was I saying? Not professional. Luckily she laughed, exposing a mouth full of gleaming, perfect teeth previously hidden behind full, pouty lips. This would not be an easy interview. My armpits were dripping into my socks.

We took a table in the back. We both ordered coffee.

“If it’s not organic, I won’t drink it,” Dr. Erica Rossellini told me.
“Me neither,” I said honestly.
“I don’t usually even drink caffeinated. It makes my heart race,” she added.

She said “heart,” and I found my eyes pulled to her breast. I couldn’t help it. That’s where her heart is, I assume.

Then we got back to business.

Dr Rossellini: So, you had questions about my book and my work?
Me: Yes. Yes, I did. I mean, I do.
Dr Rossellini: Please, ask me anything you want.
Me: How can you claim to know the male mind?
Dr Rossellini: It’s simple.
Me: You mean, it’s simple that you understand or you’re saying the male mind is simple?
Dr Rossellini: Both. Let me explain. When a woman says, “Leave me alone,” what does she mean?
Me: Don’t bother her.
Dr Rossellini: Wrong. If you’re bothering her on a bus, or a cafe, maybe. But, in a serious relationship, it means hold me, love me, never leave me.
Me: How are we supposed to know that? Are we mind readers?
Dr Rossellini: Don’t flatter yourself. The best of your gender couldn’t read a Stop sign.
Me: Why is it that you are so mean but I am so attracted to you? You torture my soul.
Dr Rossellini: I think you just answered all your own questions.

At that, Dr Rossellini smiled warmly, kissed me, left more than enough to pay the bill, plus tip, and walked out the door. I strained my neck to watch her shapely figure disappear down the block. I felt like my guts were torn out and served to me on a platter. I ordered the strongest drink Moshe had on the menu, a Dr Brown’s soda. No ice.

If you’re a man who wants a good relationship, buy a white flag after the first date.

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